Lie
by GoodGollyGopher
Summary: When Punk invites Joey out for lunch and a friendly chat, Joey worries that nothing in the SES goes unnoticed by Punk.  Follow-up to Boundaries


**Title:** Lie  
><strong>Rating:<strong> CM Punk, Joey Mercury; mentions of Serena  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> The usual Straight Edge Society creeptasticness  
><strong>Summary:<strong> When Punk invites Joey out for lunch and a friendly chat, Joey worries that nothing in the SES goes unnoticed by Punk. (Follow-up to Boundaries)  
><strong>Note:<strong> I'd like to mention here that, although wrestling fic may seem like real person fiction/RPF (and some of it out there is), mine is NOT. I write wrestling fic as if Joey and CM Punk were characters in a movie. Instead of going home and becoming their normal selves, in my fics I pretend they walk out of the ring and remain their characters 24/7. Does that make sense?  
>I had originally meant to write this for a fanfic table challenge, but these fics have taken on a mind and life of their own, and I'm using the table more as inspiration now. =)<p>

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><p>Joey was rattled when Punk told him that he wanted to speak with him. It had been a wee since Serena had unexpectedly shown up in his room, and Joey was just slowly beginning to believe that their indiscretion had gone unnoticed. As far as he was aware, nothing had visibly changed between them.<p>

But any sense of security disappeared when Punk's hand had dropped on to his shoulder, when Punk had smiled at him, had said, "Let's go for a ride, Joey, just you and me. I feel like I haven't talked to you one-on-one for awhile. Lunch, my treat. What d'you say?"

Of course he'd said yes- what else _could_ he say? So they'd gotten in the car, and Punk had driven them _here_ of all places- a hole-in-the-wall, Ma and Pop diner, clean and friendly and completely non-threatening; yet Joey couldn't think of a place that could have set his nerves on edge any more. It was the very innocent of the place that jarred him.

After they had been seated and ordered their food- Joey ordering the same thing as Punk, too nervous to really look at the menu- Punk steepled his fingers, staring almost unblinkingly across the table at him with a serene smile on his face, and Joey felt his panic levels rising. As Punk sat unmoving, Joey told himself to calm down, to breathe- he was acting like a man who had something to hide, and he could feel that it was beginning to show. Besides, there wasn't any _particular_ reason for him to be nervous- maybe Punk really did just want to catch up with him.

Punk remained silent, the minutes stretching by, that eerily calm smile remaining situated on his face, until the waitress came back with their sodas and a reassurance that their food would be there soon. Punk turned his smile on her and thanked her before sliding his gaze back to Joey. Joey fiddled with his straw, eyes fixed on it, before unwrapping it and plunking it into his drink, stirring the ice. He was almost startled by how loud the clacking of the ice against the glass struck him as being, and he stopped, sneaking a sheepish glance at Punk, as if he had done something wrong. Thou Shalt Not Loudly Stir Ice. He was feeling more and more like a little boy, sent to the principal's office for some playground misdeed, sitting mutely in front of the desk awaiting his fate.

Finally, _finally_, Punk broke the silence. "So, Joseph, tell me. How do you like the Straight Edge Society so far? You've been with us now, what, a month or so?"

Joey relaxed instantly, feeling as if he was going to slide out of his chair in utter relief. It was just a check in- how are you doing, are there any problems, have you fallen off the wagon. This was no problem; he could do this.

"It's great, Punk, it really is. I'm loving it. Just being with people all the time, who've made the same choice as you- the _right_ choice- it's indescribable. It really is. I mean before-" He interrupted himself with a shrug. "Well, you know what I was like before, the scene I was with, the people I was always around. It was a, uh, different kind of encouragement than I have now."

"Good. That's good, Joey. I'm glad to hear that, I really am." Punk smiled at him, and Joey returned the smile, still amazed at how relieved he felt. Punk didn't know about him and Serena, he was in the clear… or at least that was what he kept telling himself.

"I did want to ask you, Joseph. Have you had any problems?" Inclining his head, Punk raised both eyebrows, his meaning clear.

"There have been… some. Yeah, there's definitely been some wants, temptations." He looked down at the table, feeling a wash of hot shame flood through him- shame at what he used to be, shame that he knew that old self was still in him, would crawl and claw back up at the first chance it got, at every chance it got. He felt ashamed to be in the presence of this man- his _saviour_- and confess this flaw, this sin to him. "It's more than that, though. Sometimes they feel like needs. Like… like I _have_ to. Like I'll die if I don't."

CM Punk didn't say anything at first, and Joey began to worry that he had said too much, that he had revealed some unredeemable flaw in himself, some part of him that could not be saved, not even by Punk.

But those fears were calmed when Punk commanded, softly, soothingly, "Joseph. Joey. Look at me, Joey. Look at me."

Slowly, he did so, raising his eyes to meet Punk's, and felt a wave of reassurance at the earnestness on his leader's face. "I understand, Joseph. I don't know how you feel- I can't- but I _understand_. And I forgive you. I forgive you, Joey, because I know you're sincere about the choice you've made. I forgive you because you're already so much stronger than all the rest of these pathetic people, no matter how much or how insistently your body tells you otherwise." Breaking into a compassionate smile, Punk reached across and patted Joey's hand where it lay, tense, on the table. "The next time any of that happens- _any_ of that- you come to me, Joseph. I want you to know that I'm always here to help you- _always_."

As Punk withdrew his hand, the waitress, arrived with their food, and their conversation turned to other, less serious topics. During the drive to the restaurant, Joey had been worried that he would be unable to speak to Punk that he would have to carefully measure every word he spoke, all the while being scrutinized ruthlessly by Punk; instead he found that he was enjoying himself, unguardedly.

After the bill had been taken care of, they had left the sunny diner, heading back to the car in an easy, amicable silence. Sliding into the driver's seat, Punk put the keys in the ignition, but did not start the car, waiting until Joey had closed his door to speak.

"Are you sure that there's nothing you'd like to tell me, Joseph?"

The tone of Punk's voice had changed entirely- it had lost all its warmth, all of its good humour, and it was clear that this time he wasn't referring to a craving for any kind of substance.

Joey had frozen at Punk's words, had felt that cold seedling of fear that had been resting in his stomach this whole time crack open and spread throughout his entire body. As panic settled in, he knew wouldn't be able to speak, knew he had to speak, _he had to_, so he opened his mouth and just barely croaked out, "No, Punk, there's… there's nothing."

There was a silence, and Joey only dared look over at Punk when that silence had gone on for far too long; when he did finally look over, he saw that Punk was staring at him, mouth set in a thin line that only served to emphasize the hard anger on his face.

"Are you sure you really mean that, Joseph?"

Struggling not to lose control (although he already knew he had let too much show; already knew that Punk knew, oh god, _Punk knew_), Joey met Punk's eyes, nodding once, a reluctant downward jerk of his head,

Staring unblinkingly for another long moment at Joey's bowed head, Punk sighed, finally looking away from his follower and starting the car,

"I'm disappointed. I want you to know that." His voice was low, the words heavily weighted. Punk's final words of that day to him fell on Joey's ears like stones on a condemned prisoner, "I also want you to know, Joseph, that I'm not going to forget this… I'm going to remember."

No longer able to maintain his visible control, Joey crumpled at Punk's words, leaning heavily back against his seat. Resting his elbows on his knees, he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead, wondering exactly how much he had fucked things up this time.


End file.
